ICICLES IN THE NIGHT
by Rufferto
Summary: FINISHED The past and the present haunt Frodo...but he must do his duty despite what he wants. H/C.
1. Chapter 1

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ICICLES IN THE NIGHT  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------DISCLAIMER  
  
I don't own Tolkien characters or settings… Rufferto loves all her readers and gladly accepts comments, suggestions and desires from them. I write for the enjoyment of others and myself. I do not take kindly to reviewers who 'flame'. Flaming is unnecessary. Constructive Criticism is. Rufferto please asks that everyone "Be excellent to each other".and that we are all here for the same purpose to write and have fun reading fan fiction.  
  
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ICICLES IN THE NIGHT  
This fic stars Frodo of course. Frodo is living in Bag-End. it's the first day of Winter of his 49th year. His last winter in Bag-End though he does not know it. He finds one of Bilbo's old books in box in the cellar as he's going through things. In the book, he reads about when Frodo was 32 years old with pneumonia. He also speaks of a visitor to Bag-End that Frodo does not remember. Frodo sees a drawing that Bilbo made of the half-elf who tended him….  
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CHAPTER ONE : A curious discovery  
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I was 49 years old when I found the second most important event of my life happened. I was downstairs in the cellar cleaning out the leaning out a few old boxes while I was making things ready for packing. The lantern light was all I had to go by in the cellar, I didn't usually like being down there. It was dark and cold and it always was a little upsetting for me as I went through Bilbo's things. He...I missed him a great deal. I know it was silly and I was grown up now and shouldn't be carrying on like a child but he'd always been there for me.  
  
I came across a number of old books and then noticed something a little different...they weren't books...they were journels! My eyes lighted with excitement as I blew the dust off of them and flipped through the pages. Bilbo's journels! I'd found them. They'd been here all along...and here I'd thought he'd taken them with him! I didn't take them up right away...I knew I had things to get done, and if I got caught up in reading...I'd be doing that all day instead.   
  
My eyes sparkled…wondering what mysteries they held. I did my best to complete as much of the chores I had set for my schedule as I could stand and then went to my study. I smiled at the books on the desk and opened the window to let the summer breeze settle in. I had stopped in the kitchen and put a few things on a tray for luncheon. Just a light snack…a piece of apple crisp, a bottle of white wine, a bowl of mashed pumpkin, a bowl of stuffed mushrooms, a piece of lemon chicken sprinkled with chives, a cheese and tomato salad, and a pitcher of apple-juice.  
  
I thought about it for a moment and nodded. Just to make sure I wasn't disturbed I hurried back to the front door and bolted it. I usually left the back-door open for Sam though and I scratched my head standing in the empty hallway. As I looked around I sighed. Bag-end was huge…and look at me…still a bachelor at almost 50. I closed my eyes for just a brief moment and imagined….  
  
..."Daddy! Daddy! He stole my doll! Make him give it back!"….  
  
…."Dear…don't forget…my friend Pansy and Theo Bracegirdle are coming over tonight, remember to put on a fresh shirt." A voice…female…my wife in the kitchen…  
  
….The sounds of laughter…doors slamming almost continually. Kids tugging on my sleeves every now and again….  
  
…."Tell us another story Daddy…"…  
  
I opened my eyes again and looked about at the silent halls that held only the echo of my own voice and footsteps. Occasionally, I'd hear Sam…But…I shook myself. It didn't matter, I had things to do. I suppose…I'd put them off for far too long. I could have…found someone to marry I guess. I always thought there would be more years…time enough. And didn't want to marry someone I didn't love.   
  
I walked into my study and left the door open just a tad. I sat down in my chair and stared at the journals, trying to figure out if Bilbo would want me to read them. I poured myself a glass of wine and took a sip to calm my nerves. Looking at the dates on the books was starting to bring back memories I didn't want. The years flashed in my mind.   
  
…."Daddy, I heard something today…"…  
  
…"What did you hear, Frodo my lad?"…  
  
…"Nessa Took said that Mellie Brandybuck said that her mother was talking one night…and they said you didn't love Mamma…and that you only married her because of me…Is that true Daddy? You love mamma…"…  
  
I had been about six years old when they first started in on the teasing…  
  
…"Nonsense, my lad." My father had laughed heartily and ruffled my curls. "Your cousins are just having fun with you. Of course I love your Mamma, right and true, as I love you. Now…off with you lad…"  
  
Then when they thought I had left…  
  
…"Drogo…why was Frodo crying just now? I thought I heard him…"  
  
…"Nothing Primula…just the kids…you know how they can be?"…  
  
…"He'll have to be told someday, Dear…you know that…"…  
  
My father had just nodded and I watched as he held my mother in his arms. They -had- loved each other… I knew that. My hand traced over the first journal. It seemed…he'd begun when my parents died. I wasn't ready to read about that…my hand clenched. I was an adult now…why did it still hurt so much? I flung the book across the room and it smashed into the door of my study and fell to the floor.  
  
I had another sip of wine and stirred the pumpkin a little, taking a bit of it on the spoon and lifting it to my mouth. They never had told me…neither had Bilbo. Despite my questions. Maybe the answer…was in these books. The answer to everything I wanted to know…why he left…why there was so much whispering about my parents…why…why I was different.  
  
My gaze drifted to another book and I pulled it out of the stack. The date corresponded to when I was 32 years old. Just before Bilbo left…This would be the year with the answers in it….my hand trembled a little and I felt a cool breeze in the air. For some reason…I didn't remember a great deal about that year. Things had happened as they always did. Nothing special…why had he decided to leave right after it then…and there were no other journals after this date.  
  
… "Frodo, my lad." Bilbo said to me once. "Books are both a blessing and a danger. They will give you all the knowledge of the years and then they will also give you things that you don't want to know about. Things that you would rather never happened…and some things that you would rather forget about. That's why most people don't read."…  
  
…"Why would people want to forget?"…  
  
…"Because some things are too painful to remember…"  
  
I opened the book to the first page, and was surprised to find that it contained a lock of hair…it was a curl…pressed in the covers…dark brown…almost like mine…but it couldn't be mine?  
  
Unbidden…a memory flashed into my mind…an image of my mother. I shook it away and refocused on the book.  
  
I took another sip of the wine, and I began to read…  
  
* To Be continued…J 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note : This is slightly AU. I'm sorry it took so long to get an update up. I watched Starwars II at 12am and it kind of messed up my schedule a bit and I slept a lot. At any rate, just so you know : The Stuff in caps is what Frodo is reading in Biblo's journel. He's also remembering the events as he reads about them.  
  
Chapter Two   
  
While I read on…Bilbo's words began to form a memory in my mind…a memory I would have rather left alone and kept from the surface. One of the memories that tied me to the Shire…I read only a few lines of Bilbo's journal when it came to me…rising like a phoenix through my soul. I shivered and could feel an anxious sweat building.  
  
I WOKE UP IN THE MORNING TO BE TOLD THAT FRODO HAD COME IN LATE THAT NIGHT AND FALLEN. HE'D BEEN CAUGHT IN THE FIRST WINTER STORM OF THE YEAR…AND HAD COME HOME TO ANOTHER. I COULD NOT EVEN TELL HIM AT THE TIME…AND WHEN IT CAME TO A MOMENT THAT I COULD…SHE WAS ALREADY GONE. I FELT IT BEST TO END IT AS I DID. FRODO WOULD BE BETTER OFF THAT WAY.  
  
I closed my eyes…and the memories flooded back in an angry torrent…refusing to relinquish their hold on me.  
  
* * * Bag End -- Frodo age 32 : Winter -- * * *  
  
I was falling…and darkness surrounded me. I could not breathe…I could not think…and I could barely remember who I was….or even where I was. All I knew was that I was in great pain. Life was drifting away from my fingers even as I struggled to grasp at it. Bag End was as quiet as a tomb…and I rested where I had collapsed, a dull ache pounding in my head.   
  
Outside the wind was howling. Before I'd managed to get home, four feet of snow had already piled up….and me without my jacket. It had been fine earlier that day…even a bit warm…but as night fell the temperature had severely dropped….and then it began to snow. I had been caught several miles from Hobbiton on one of my walks…and had been forced to make my way back in the storm.  
  
I'd stumbled into Bag End…and I didn't even have time to close the door before I'd fallen in an exhausted, shivering heap.  
  
"Bilbo…" I had cried out.  
  
It was very late at night…and my uncle was out with a search party…looking for me. The answer had not been Bilbo. The answer had been a soft feminine voice, gentle as a summer breeze and as bright as a blazing fire. It was the first time I ever heard her. She must have arrived before the Storm.   
  
"Who are you?" the voice asked. I felt her hands warm against my frozen cheek and as I opened my eyes and glanced around…icicles clung to the windows of Bag-End signaling the beginning of the Ice Storm that would ravage the Shire that winter. The door was now closed…she had managed to shut it on her own. She lifted me up a little so my head rested against her arm and she brushed away at my curls. "You're Frodo!" she exclaimed. "You are…you're alright! Oh…Bilbo will be so happy to hear it…" her voice was like a harmony of musical bells…and I stared at her, transfixed.   
  
I don't think I could do her justice in a simple description. She was and she wasn't. I don't quite know how to explain it. She had long curly dark brown hair…eyes a deep green, sparkling like a clear pond in the summer under a bright blue sky. Though she was like a hobbit…I could hardly believe she could be one. She did have extra weight, like a hobbit…and her hands were long and smooth with thin fingers. Her face however was angular…not round, and her feet were as a hobbit lass' should be. She reminded me of someone…but I couldn't think exactly who…  
  
"W-who ….where…" I managed to gasp out. Had I come into the wrong hole?  
  
"Relax, Frodo. You're home safe." she placed her hand against my forehead, "You're burning up…how long were you out in that?" She caught her breath…"And not even in a jacket. You're freezing too."  
  
I nodded, huddling a little closer to her. She was nice and warm…whoever she was…and I was just…happy to have made it home.…maybe I was just dreaming…As she bent closer, I felt her hair against my face…apples…like mamma…I blinked at her in confusion. "Mamma?"  
  
That was when Bilbo and the Gaffer had returned.   
  
SHE HAD FOUND HIM ON THE FLOOR OF BAG END…WE HAD JUST COME IN FROM SEARCHING WHEN I SAW HIM STARING UP AT HER AND CALLING HER MAMMA. I HAD NOT WISHED FOR THAT TO BE THEIR FIRST MEETING. BUT FRODO HAD GONE OFF THE DAY SHE ARRIVED, AND THE STORM HIT. WE DIDN'T KNOW HOW LONG HE'D BEEN OUTSIDE IN THE SNOW, AND IT'S A WONDER HE SURVIVED. HE'S GOT A LOT OF STRENGTH IN HIM, MY BOY. I'LL NEVER FORGET THE LOOK IN HIS EYES AS HE TOUCHED HER HAIR AND GAZED UP AT HER. I WISHED THEN I'D SAID SOMETHING SOONER, BUT I ALWAYS THOUGHT THERE WOULD BE MORE TIME…AND I HAD BEEN WAITING. WE ATTEMPTED TO LIFT HIM UP, BUT HE CLUNG TO HER LIKE A FRIGHTENED CHILD. THE HEALTHY MONTHS THAT HAD BEEN HIS BEST SUMMER…EVAPORATING IN ONE FELL SWOOP OF MOTHER NATURE'S TREACHEROUS HAND. MY HEART SANK…FOR I KNEW THAT HE WOULD NEVER REALLY BE A TRULY HEALTHY LAD.  
  
I closed my eyes again.  
  
"Come on Frodo...let your Uncle Bilbo help you up…We have to get you to your room." The beautiful voice had come to me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.  
  
"Don't leave…" I begged her. "Stay…" I wouldn't let go of her hand. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She did…she reminded me of mamma. At the time…I had even…thought she was. "Don't leave me…"  
  
I leaned over and took another sip of wine, playing with the bowl of applesauce absently. So she had been real. I looked over at the window for a minute or so not really sure if I wanted to read anymore. The memories were back…a time I'd tried very hard to forget for the pain of it was difficult to bear. I had been young still…and what I truly wanted was within my grasp…  
  
They carried me to my bedroom, but I refused to let go of her, beginning to cry when Bilbo even suggested it. I must have frightened her a little, but she continued to watch me with kind and gentle eyes. Like a mother deer's.   
  
"She's a lass Frodo, she can't be here in your room." Bilbo had tried to deter me while he was doing his best to help get off my wet clothes.   
  
I had been nearly completely delirious at the time…and even now I blush to remember it. She had laid a hand bravely on Bilbo's shoulder and shook her head. "Its alright. I am not afraid to stay with him."  
  
"Its not that I'm worried about." Bilbo shook his head, "Its not seemly for a young girl to be in a boy's room. Even like this."  
  
"Please…don't send her away…" I had begged, tears fluttering in my eyes. She helped Bilbo to put me in a clean warm nightshirt after he had dried me with a towel. Despite his mutterings about propriety, she stayed and helped him every step of the way. The Gaffer had been in the kitchen all the while preparing hot water and probably something with which to feed me. I didn't want anything…I only wanted her presense.   
  
It was barely twenty-minutes later that I was lying in bed…still shivering with cold…I could not seem to get warm.no matter how much Bilbo rubbed my arms or blew on my hands. My lips were trembling…but my eyes were clear and focused. I knew she was there. I didn't want to take them away from her in case she might…vanish or disappear…or if she wasn't real.  
  
"Try and relax a little, Frodo." her soft voice was as smooth as the rays of the sun themselves. The Gaffer came in with warm water.   
  
"Tis a snowin' mighty fierce out there, Mr. Bilbo, snow and rain. Its going to be ice in the morning thicker'n you can imagine. I need to be getting' to me family fore it gets much worse."  
  
"You go on, I've got Chloe here…we'll handle Frodo…Its just a chill." Had I been a little more coherent…I may have noticed the worry in Bilbo's voice.  
  
"Alright…I'll check around in the morning'." and he was gone. And I had heard her name for the first time. It had a strange flare to it, almost like a breathe of wind.   
  
EARLIER THE FIRST DAY OF THE ICE STORM GANDALF HAD BROUGHT BY CHLOE. I HAD NOT EXPECTED HIM FOR ANOTHER WEEK, BUT HE HAD BEEN PRESSED FOR TIME. I HAD HOPED TO TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS QUICKLY, BUT WITH FRODO COMING HOME WITH PNEUMONIA IT COULDN'T BE HELPED. FRODO SEEMS TO THINK THAT SHE'S HIS MAMMA, PERHAPS ITS BEST THAT WE PLAY ALONG IN HIS CURRENT STATE. SHE'S WITH HIM NOW, HE WOULDN'T LET HER GO, AND I HAVE NO FEARS THAT ANYONE WILL WORRY ABOUT IT, NOT WITH THE STORM AS IT IS. THE FEVER IS STRONG AND NEITHER OF US HAVE HAD MUCH SLEEP. I'M WRITING NOW BECAUSE I NEED TO TAKE MY MIND OFF OF THE POSSIBILITY THAT I MIGHT LOSE HIM. I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT CHLOE CAN GET HIM TO EAT AND TAKE HIS MEDICINE. HE IS NOT RESPONDING TO ME AND I DON'T KNOW WHY.  
  
Why…I thought back again…taking another spoonful of applesauce. I didn't know why…really. I think because I wanted -her- , I had wanted to be in her arms…because she was comfortable…and she smelt like my mother. He must have been writing this when he left us alone so she could feed me. I sighed softly. Why…her face was now very clear in my mind and even though I poured myself another glass of wine it wouldn't go away.   
  
* * *   
  
More to come…J 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
  
I stared at the wine bottle. Almost half empty already. It was a good thing I had a couple more in the Study. There were just some days…I ran fingers through my hair, staring at the journal. It was bringing back her into my mind….and I wasn't sure that I could deal with that….even after all these years. I didn't really feel like eating anymore and pushed the tray away. I took my pipe and filled it. It always seemed to settle my stomach once I had a bit of a smoke…not to mention calming my nerves.  
  
After the pipe was lit and I felt a little better…I thought about continuing with the journal. Was I ready to bring -that- back. I had so long managed to bury it in the past. It had been the first time…I'd ever …I sighed. It wasn't that I didn't like girls. It was that well…I wasn't …I was different. I liked to be alone. Maybe…well. I'd spent the last 18 years telling myself I wanted to be alone…why change that thought now? Especially since I was planning on leaving the Shire. The thought never did sit well with me. Leaving. It hadn't been a problem for Bilbo. Why should it be such a problem with me. Why was I so tied to here?  
  
My whole life I wanted to be somewhere I wasn't and now that the chance presented itself all I wanted to do was stay. Well…my memories were here. Everything I loved was here. Except…and then I thought about what I was trying not to think about…everything I loved was dead or gone. I had another sip of wine. I rubbed my chest a bit, and coughed lightly…then I resumed reading the journal.  
  
FRODO HAD ONLY BECOME WORSE WHEN I LOOKED BACK IN ON HIM. HE WAS SLEEPING, FINALLY, BUT HE STILL HADN'T EATEN ANYTHING. CHLOE AND I HAD A LITTLE TALK WHILE WE COULD. HE WAS SLEEPING AT THE TIME. CHLOE WAS A PLEASANT CHILD, TAKING EVERYTHING IN STRIDE. I TRIED TO EXPLAIN THAT SHE LOOKED LIKE HIS MOTHER AND THAT HIS PARENTS HAD DIED. IT HAD HAPPENED A LONG TIME AGO, BUT IT HAD TAKEN HIM A LONG TIME TO GET OVER IT. NOW WAS PERHAPS THE WORST TIMING THAT SHE WAS HERE. I HAD PLANNED TO STOP BY BREYAWALD ON THE WAY TO RIVENDELL INSTEAD OF HAVING CHLOE BROUGHT TO BAG END. GANDALF HAD OTHER IDEAS. CHLOE, HE SAID, NEEDED ARRANGEMENTS TO BE MADE RIGHT AWAY AND NOT YEARS DOWN THE ROAD. I DON'T THINK THE OLD WIZARD REALLY BELIEVED THAT I WAS GOING TO LEAVE NEXT YEAR. CHLOE SEEMED TO HAVE A LOT OF HER MOTHER IN HER, AND I WAS PLEASED OF THAT. SHE ACCEPTED THAT I DIDN'T WANT HER STAYING AT BAG END AND ALL THE REASONS WHY. I WAS ALREADY IN THE PROCESS OF TRANSFERRING HER TO HER GRANDFATHER'S PEOPLE WHEN THE WIZARD DECIDED TO DROP HER BY. BREYWALD IS A SMALL SETTLEMENT INBETWEEN BREE AND RIVENDELL. ITS PEOPLE ARE RELATED TO CHLOE'S, AND IT'S THE ONLY SETTLEMENT THAT I KNOW OF WHICH STAYS IN ONE PLACE ALL YEAR ROUND. USUALLY THEY TRAVEL. CHLOE'S PEOPLE ARE HOBBITS THAT SEEM TO HAVE ELVEN BLOOD, FOR THEY HAVE NEVER STRUCK ME AS COMPLETELY LIKE US, THOUGH THEY ARE SIMILAR. THEY ARE OUTCASTS FROM ALL SOCIETIES….NOMADS AND GYPSIES. THEY HAVE STRANGE POWERS…AND FRODO'S MOTHER…WELL…FRODO'S MOTHER WAS THE DAUGHTER OF ONE OF THEM.  
  
I dropped the book….not sure whether or not to cry out in alarm or gasp in shock. Something…he'd never spoken of this…ever. I had heard of gypsy folk, but I didn't realize that there were hobbits who moved from place to place. I -had- heard of people finding hobbit holes in the most unlikely of places….but. Gypsies. My grandmother was Gypsy? Now it all began to make sense…the whispers about my mother…the looks and the mistrust…Aunt Esmerelda never quite accepting me…my height…my skin…I shivered. My hand shook as I began to remember that night.  
  
"Bilbo…" I had been feeling very cold. She was not there anymore. I was awake and alone. It was too cold. I couldn't breathe…it was too cold…"Help…" I croaked out. My throat felt like sandpaper, and my eyes were watering with tears.   
  
Bilbo came rushing in…and there was someone by his side. The two of them helped me to relax once again against the pillows and I began to breathe easier again. "There now, my boy…don't get excited…We're just a stones throw away, no one was leaving you alone. Calm down. There's a good lad…"  
  
"Its alright Frodo…."  
  
Her voice, I blinked and wiped at the tears in my eyes. She came into focus and I smiled in relief. She had not gone. She was still there. I held out my arms for her, struggling away from Bilbo. "Mamma…it hurts…"  
  
"There now, Frodo. Everything will be alright." and she was not afraid to take me in her arms….  
  
I had clung pretty desperately to her. At the time it really didn't matter who she was, only that she was holding me and not pushing me away. Bilbo rubbed my back gently as she helped me relax on the pillows.   
  
"Bilbo, I think he might be ready for something to eat…its best we get something into him while he still can…"  
  
Bilbo nodded, "You're quite right. I'll be off to get a tray." he did not seem very happy at the idea of leaving her alone with me but there was nothing to be done about it. It was almost…now that I remember it…almost as if he didn't trust her.  
  
* * * 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
  
I shivered. It was cold outside this evening, and the window pane was fogging up with winters breath. I leant back in my chair remembering that particular moment. I had felt desperate…certainly. At first…I had thought she was my mother, but then…it gradually began to dawn on me that it wasn't. Sometimes when I was really sick…I tended to hallucinate when I was younger….especially when it hurt so much all I wanted to do was die. I usually thought a lot about my parents then. Lately, I didn't think so much about them anymore. I had grown up. After Bilbo left, it was really the only thing I -could- do.  
  
--flashback--  
  
I lay in her arms, curled up in a little ball. I didn't want to eat anything, I just wanted to be comfortable…and not to be cold anymore. I shook my head when she tried to coax some soup into me. "N-no thank-you." I whispered hoarsely….at that moment I blinked and saw her finally. "W-who are you?" I managed.  
  
"My name is Chloe. I'm your uncle's guest. " she said softly, her voice was like a breeze…swift but gentle. I gazed at her through watery eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry…I…" I blushed a little…realizing how close I was snuggling against her. "I…thought…" I was never that good with lasses, and now that some coherency was drifting back…I began to realize just what position I'd placed her in. "Please…forgive me…"  
  
"Frodo, My lad." Bilbo touched my shoulder. I thankfully turned around and let him hold me. I was embarrassed…it was not because of her, but because…well…she was so kind and gentle. I wanted to be in her arms…but …it was not right for me to want that. She was not a relation.   
  
I snuck a look back at her and she was smiling at me. I felt my heart thump a few times, and I looked back up at Bilbo, "I'm not hungry...Uncle..." I pleaded. "Don't make me eat...I'll throw it up or something...my tummy hurts...and my throat..." I felt so helpless...and I was also uncomfortable with her in the room. I didn't want her to see me this way...but I didn't want her to leave.   
  
She took it all in stride...without once changing expression or looking at me any differently. "Some baked apples on soft toast, Frodo? They're very easy to get down..."  
  
"Bilbo..." I glanced back at her, and fretted wretchedly, "I can't..." I looked away again, confused. I didn't understand what I was thinking. She should not be in my room. I should ask her to go. My coherancy was failing at the time and my mind was in a jumble. Bilbo held me as he always did when I was ill, rocking me gently in his arms.  
  
"Frodo, lad. You need to eat." he prompted me. "You can't go through the night without any food. Perhaps just the soup...it would be just like drinking..."  
  
Tears began to build in my eyes and I didn't want to…but the way they were both looking at me finally registered. I sighed…"I'll…" I swallowed nervously, my throat dry, and my stomach in knots. "I'll try…" I lifted my head up to her and parted my lips. "But…only just a little." Though Bilbo held me…it offered only small comfort. I wanted her.   
  
She nodded, and helped me to take the spoonful. I chewed a little and could not drag my eyes away from her this time. Perhaps my desire was more obvious than I thought, because she had exchanged glances with Bilbo, and he settled me against her. "I must go and get the tea."  
  
Too exhausted to argue this time…and not entirely coherent in any fashion I let this happen. She held me easily and my head rested against her shoulder. I closed my eyes. "No more…" After the first bite, my stomach was beginning to feel queezy. I grimaced and moaned slightly. Then I felt a hand against my tummy…rubbing it gently as though I was a little babe. I didn't dare look, and it felt so good…that I didn't want to know. I sighed in relief.  
  
--- end flashback ---  
  
I flushed, thinking about that once again. I remembered just how good she had felt…and just how easily she had drawn me to her. I wondered a little…if it had been because I was ill. I certainly would have never let a lady into my room otherwise. Even the thought made my heart pound and my legs go weak. I took another long sip of the wine. Finished another glass already. …perhaps I should get back to the journal.  
  
CHLOE HAD SUGGESTED A TYPE BREW THAT I'D NEVER HEARD OF, A COMBINATION OF REGULAR SPICES THAT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN MIXED BEFORE BUT SEEMED TO MAKE SENSE. GROUND ORANGE RINDS AND CINNAMON POWDER. SHE SAID THAT IF I ADDED A TOUCH OF CREAM AND NUTMEG, IT WOULD MAKE A TYPE OF BREW THAT WOULD GO EASY DOWN HIS THROAT AND COAT HIS STOMACH. I DIDN'T FAIL TO CATCH THE LOOK HE GAVE HER. I'D NEVER SEEN FRODO LOOK AT A LASS THAT WAY BEFORE, AND I FEAR THAT IF HE CONTINUES IN THIS MANNER…IT WILL NOT END WELL. ARRANGEMENTS FOR CHLOE HAD ALREADY BEEN MADE, SHE WOULDN'T BE STAYING IN THE SHIRE, AND IT WOULD ONLY LEAD TO HEARTACHE.  
  
If only I had hadn't been sick. I may not have so easily let my guard down. I eyed the still mostly full bowls on my tray. I wondered why I wasn't hungry because I'd skipped Dinner. Sometimes that happened to me lately though. I took the ring from my pocket. The one that Bilbo had left for me and I turned it over between my fingers. It always seemed to…soothe me when I was feeling agitated. I at lest knew that it was still there. It was always within reach…it wouldn't leave me.  
  
* * * 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five  
  
A little while later, I was laying back in my chair, staring at the window. The cold weather was making it fog up with crystals. I was feeling a little out of sorts, well_...more than a little. I thought for a moment that I saw someone in the window, looking in_...and I blinked..._the shape was gone. I frowned and rose, taking another sip of wine. I studied the window once more..._and saw the shape again. Someone was outside in my garden. I took my walking stick and staggered to my feet. Why was I feeling so woozy? I hadn't had that much wine already had I? I ventured to the garden door and stepped outside_...gazing around at the snow coated grounds. Light flakes were falling, and I shivered slightly, I should have put on my coat. "Who's there?" I called out. "I'm warning you..."  
  
I gripped the staff…looking around. The garden was empty…just as I thought. I laughed a little. I was imagining things as usual. I closed and then…almost as an after thought…locked the back door. Sam had a key, anyway. I walked back down the hall to my study, discarding the staff as I did. Silly to think…well…of course…I suddenly realized what date it was. This was the day…the day that she…I shook my head trying to clear the fog in my brain.  
  
---Flashback---  
  
"Here Frodo." her voice was soft and lovely like a spring breeze, "Take some of this mixture…its an old family recipe, it will help you sleep."  
  
"I…no thank-you." I shook my head, I was too exhausted after eating the soup…but yet…I didn't want to go to sleep. I didn't want this to be a dream. "I don't want to sleep." I turned away, not accepting the tea. Bilbo watched, preparing a cool cloth. Why cold water? I was cold…not hot…I shivered under the blankets. I buried myself down and into the pillows. I wished she would take me in her arms again…but of course she would not. I was wrong to even want her to. I looked over at Bilbo with my eyes wide with building tears. "Do I have to drink it? I don't feel at all well….I'm cold….not hot…so cold…"  
  
Bilbo frowned, "Frodo…you've got a terribly high fever…though you might not be realizing' it just yet." he tried to explain as he put the cloth over my forehead. It felt…strangely comforting…Fever? "The tea is to help keep your stomach under control so that we will be able to feed you. Let Chloe help you drink now…that's a good lad…"  
  
He lifted me up slightly so that I could drink the tea without it dribbling on my chest. I blinked at her…Chloe…flushing. My eyes must have been betraying my feelings…I tended to have a hard time keeping my emotions from showing…she put her hand up and touched my cheek gently. "Your Uncle is quite right, Frodo. "  
  
"Another blanket…please…?" I begged softly…avoiding the inevitable for as long as possible. Or…I needed someone to hold me. How in the shire could I ask something like that though? I wanted to curl up next to her again…it had felt so good. I gazed at her, whimpering a bit.  
  
Bilbo and Chloe exchanged glances, and my uncle went to fetch another blanket. Chloe set the teacup down on my beside table and looked at me seriously. She smiled just then…and I felt…oddly elated despite the pain in my chest…it was starting to become difficult to breathe…While Bilbo was busy getting the blanket, she had slipped under the covers, and drew me into her arms like a mother would her child. I flushed from my ears down to my neck. Too weak to argue, I let her arrange me against her, and it was to this site that Bilbo returned with the blanket. He looked at the two of us and a tiny frown of disproval began to form in his eyes. I closed mine, not wanting to see it. "I'd…like the tea now…please…?" I said at last.   
  
The blanket fetched by my uncle was worked over us and he seemed to make a gruff affirmative reply. "Its all right Frodo." Chloe's voice was the one that caused me to reopen my eyes. My Uncle was no longer frowning, but I didn't see any approval in his gaze. He was however, pleased to see that I would now drink the tea. I let her help me, the tea felt a bit strange…and tasted a little bitter…but it went down easily. After a while I was beginning to feel drowsy…and my eyes fluttered closed again as I snuggled against her, curling up comfortably. It still hurt to breathe.  
  
"This won't do." I heard Bilbo's stern voice when they believed I was asleep. "Chloe, you know as well as I do what is planned for you…"  
  
"I know Bilbo." her voice was calm and resigned as she stroked my hair, coaxing me into the land of dreams. A land that I never liked to visit…but one I could never really avoid either.  
  
--end flashback--  
  
I got back to my study and finished the wine glass on my desk. After I sat down in my chair again I considered eating some more of the applesauce and played around with it a bit. One or two bites later, I pushed it away, refilled my glass and turned the page of the journal. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and began to read again.  
  
CHLOE SEEMED TO HAVE FRODO ENTHRALLED. IT REALLY ISN'T A GOOD THING. I DON'T KNOW HOW I'M GOING TO BE ABLE TO TELL THE BOY WHEN THIS IS OVER AND HE'S WELL AGAIN. AT LEAST…AT LEAST HE'S RESPONDING TO HER. HE LETS HER FEED HIM, WHY HE WON'T TAKE ANYTHING FROM ME I DON'T KNOW. WHEN GANDALF WAS HERE, HE SAID THAT IT SEEMED FRODO SUSPECTED WHAT I WAS PLANNING AND WAS UPSET ABOUT IT. I DON'T BLAME THE LAD….WHEN I LEAVE…HE'LL BE ALONE. I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE TO DO IT TO HIM, BUT THERE'S NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT. GANDALF IS RIGHT, I HAVE TO LEAVE. I'M BEGINNING TO FEEL MY AGE, EVEN THOUGH MY BODY DOESN'T SHOW IT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH LONGER I'LL KEEP MYSELF TOGETHER IF I STAY HERE. I'M 110 YEARS OLD NOW, AND I CAN'T IMAGINE THAT I HAVE MUCH LONGER TO LIVE DISPITE WHAT GANDALF SAYS. I HAVE TO FINISH MY BOOK IN PEACE AND QUIET AND COLLECT MY SENSES. BUT AT ANY RATE…HE WILL HAVE TO LOSE THE CONNECTION TO CHLOE IMMEDIATELY WHEN HE IS WELL AGAIN, AND AFTER THIS DRATTED ICE STORM EASES UP…WHEN THE ROAD OPENS AGAIN, I'M TAKING HER WHERE SHE BELONGS. I KNOW HE WON'T UNDERSTAND, BUT IT'S THE BEST THING I CAN DO FOR HIM. I HOPE THAT SOMEDAY I WILL BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN.   
  
I put my hand to my temple and closed my eyes. She was still in my heart after all these years, and after all the times I'd tried to get her out of my mind…buried her so far down deep that my mind forgot her. She was now tumbling back into it again, but she was so far out of my reach . I had problems I couldn't bring her into…even if I had the courage to look for her. After all…what did I have to offer her even if I did find her…and even if she wanted me? I had things to do.   
  
I opened another bottle of wine.  
  
* * * 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six  
  
Do you know what it is like not being able to breathe? Your life flashes before you, and you wonder to yourself at that particular moment if it really had been worth living. Everyone you've ever loved is clear in your mind as is everything you still want to do. I nibbled on a piece of chicken contemplating the memories that Bilbo's journal had stirred. My cousin Merry would say that I just didn't meet the right hobbit. Sam would say that I was shy and Pippin would say that I didn't like girls. They're all wrong. I longed for someone…someone who could understand me. Someone who would be willing to hold me night after night. I needed love as everyone else did and I dreamt about what it would be like to have a wife and children, I also thought about what it would be like…with someone in my bed. They were wrong thoughts to have…but I've had them every so often. They would also tell you that in the Shire we are quite a decent race, no debauchery or evil behavior. Some would have the entire world know that Hobbits from the shire are the purest of races. It is simply our society that makes us that way. We have a strong sense of what is wrong and what is right. And…what is wrong is to desire someone you were not married to…you never spoke of it…even to your closest friends. Certainly…unless you started the courting process…you never did anything about it if you wanted to be accepted in society. I remember what it was like not being able to breathe because I woke up later that night…and I couldn't see or feel anything but what was flashing through my mind.   
  
---Flashback---  
  
I awoke…and knew the reason why. My throat was constricting…like someone was strangling me…but there was no one but the darkness in the room…and her…She was with me…but she was holding me…she was half asleep and did not immediately notice. I gasped, clutching at her. Images…sights…sounds…people…were all flashing through my mind and I couldn't focus…all I wanted to do was focus on her though. I couldn't and the tears began to fall when she felt my desperate grip and stared at me in shock.  
  
"Hold on Frodo…" Fumbling in Bilbo's medicine bag, she found what she was looking for. A jelly like substance in a small jar. She tore open my nightshirt, and began to quickly rub it on my taunt chest…and some kind of vapor began to rise from it. "Small Breathes…Frodo…" she encouraged me, holding me steady. "Relax…open your lungs."   
  
I wheezed hoarsely, trying my best to comply, but it was a few moments before I feebly began to breathe again after inhaling the fumes from the strong medication. It smelt awful, and I grimaced through sweat and tears. She smiled, encouraging me further to breathe. I tried talking but she wouldn't let me, putting a finger to my lips. I nodded and continued to take small breaths. Eventually, she brought over a glass of cool water and had me take a few sips. My breathe was coming now…but in slow…short gasps, my lungs burning with every effort.  
  
I lay there for a long time, getting my breathe back to some kind of regular form. She held me all the way through it as I trembled and wiped away at tears of pain. Finally…it subsided enough that I could speak…with a dry and hoarse voice that cracked at each tone. I did not recognize it. "More water…please.."  
  
She let me have as much as I needed…and I shivered and pressed against her. She was warm…and I still couldn't get warm…despite the layers of soft quilts. I looked at her after a while…a little embarrassed…remembering how good her hands had felt on my chest. My ears turned a little red and I pushed away the thought, cuddling into her arm. She rubbed my shoulder gently, soothing me enough that I almost drifted off to sleep, but not before I started talking a little to her.   
  
"Th-thank-you." I managed, my mouth felt like sandpaper, and every part of me was as weak as a kitten, yet the beating of my heart was clear enough that I thought for sure she must be able to hear it.  
  
"You're alright Frodo, just relax now my little one." Chloe's voice was like cream in warm tea…soft and smooth. I gazed at her, she made me feel…like I was the center of her world right now, and only My Aunty Angeline and my uncle Bilbo had ever made me feel that way…since my parents died.  
  
"Are you…" I ventured at last, "Chloe…how long will you be here?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Frodo…for as long as the weather is as bad as it is, I think." she played a little with my damp curls, pushing them back out of my eyes.  
  
"I hope you can stay forever!" I buried my head against her shoulder, coughing a little as I tried to speak a bit faster.   
  
"She cannot stay Frodo." Bilbo's voice was in the doorway and he carried a pot of tea into the room. It was sterner than I had ever heard from him before. I knew better than to argue with him and was too weak to really comply, yawning. After I let Bilbo coax ginger tea into my lips I heard her say something to Bilbo as I drifted back to sleep.  
  
"Uncle…I…I don't mean to be disrespectful…but perhaps it would be good for him."  
  
"None of this is good for him…for he will have to lose it, and I don't want my boy to suffer again, Chloe. He's been through enough, let him go…"  
  
"I'm sorry uncle."  
  
--- end flashback --  
  
I flipped another page as the memory of that night faded.  
  
FRODO AND CHLOE ARE GETTING CLOSER AND CLOSER AND I FEAR THAT HE HAS ALREADY FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HER. I SHALL HAVE TO HAVE A SERIOUS TALK WITH HER AS SOON AS FRODO IS ABLE TO BE ON HIS OWN IN BED. SHE TOLD ME HE ALMOST STOPPED BREATHING AND IT HAD BROKEN MY OWN HEART TO HEAR IT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO IF HE SHOULD NOT SURVIVE THIS. I ALMOST FEEL THAT I CAN'T LEAVE HIM…WHEN HE SO EASILY SUCCUMBS TO SUCH THINGS. I WISH THAT I DIDN'T HAVE TO DO WHAT I MUST, BUT I CAN'T STAY IN THE SHIRE ANY LONGER, I CAN'T…I MUST GIVE IT UP IF I'M TO FIND PEACE. IF CHLOE'S MOTHER WERE ALIVE SHE WOULD BE TELLING ME TO SEPARATE THEM IMMEDIATELY, BUT I CAN'T DO THAT EITHER. FRODO IS RESPONDING TO HER, HE'S PULLING HIMSELF THROUGH THE WORST BITS OF THIS BECAUSE THERE'S MORE THAN JUST ME THAT HE CARES ABOUT. I FEAR FOR HIS STATE OF MIND WHEN HE FINDS OUT THE TRUTH.  
  
I smiled sardonically, the truth. I wished that Bilbo had just left well enough alone. Clenching my fist I looked over at the pictures of my mother and father. I had wanted her with all my heart…had needed her. But…she was not who I wanted her to be. I took a bit more wine and yawned. As the fire crackled, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.  
  
*Frodo* A fell voice whispered in the study, yet there was no one there but me…and…I looked down at the One Ring. Bilbo's old magic ring, now that I knew what it was I didn't know if I had the strength to carry out Gandalf's wishes. It was a pretty ring…I could see myself in it. I touched it and heard my name again…and it seemed like her voice. I shook my head wearily. I was hearing things.  
  
* * * 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven  
  
"The Truth." I glared at the diary, my temper was beginning to rise. I braced my hands on the edge of my desk taking several deep breaths and calming my mind as best I could. I remembered the look Bilbo gave me when I asked who she was. I remembered his look when he refused to let me court her. I sighed, I wasn't mad at him…I swirled the wine in my glass. I was…just angry at how everything seemed to have turned out in my life so far. I attracted trouble.  
  
I got out of my chair, trying hard to ignore the incomprehensible whispers that seemed to be egging my temper on. I gazed at the fireplace for a moment, resting against the mantlepiece. Perhaps what I really needed was to take a walk…to clear my head. I poured my glass full, and filled my pipe. It didn't take me long to struggle into a heavy jacket, a pair of gloves and wrap a scarf around my neck. There was a blanket of snow on the ground and it was not exactly warm weather. But…I had to get out of Bag End…perhaps then the voices that plagued me would cease their call.  
  
I locked the door behind me, and headed down the road. It was probably a few hours past midnight, I hadn't looked at the clock. I walked quickly, it was cold out, and I tried to ignore that the shadows seemed very long…and almost as though they were seeking me, their fingers pushing my way.   
  
I found that I hadn't escaped the whispers. Suddenly, a bird flew by my head, startling me. I lurched forward and nearly went offbalance. Luckily…I did manage to avoid spilling too much wine. I glanced from where it had come and found nothing that could have spooked it. I kept walking. I must have seemed an odd figure. Queer Frodo Baggins…walking about after midnight like he meant to go dance with the fairies. I had a destination in mind…it was one of the few places where I found any peace. It seemed to take an awful long time to reach it. Perhaps due to the number of times I stumbled on the way, for my body didn't seem to have quite the spryness I usually had. I pushed away the warning thought in my head…"Get ye home, Frodo Baggins…you're drunk…and walking about this late is surely to cause you harm."  
  
The Hobbiton Graveyard stretched over a grassy pleasant hill, and it was not that far away from Bag End. My parents memorial had been erected near the Baggins' Tomb. They were actually buried in The Brandy Hall Cemetery, but Bilbo had put up a memorial here for me when I came to live with him. There was a bench nearby and I was thankful for that. I brushed off some snow and with far less dexterity than I was used to…I managed to sit down.  
  
I lit my pipe for warmth and took a deep breath, staring at the memorial. What would they think of me were they here today? I was hardly the little boy they left behind…but I hadn't quite grown into a respectable hobbit they could be proud of. In fact, despite my wealth…the folk of Hobbiton barely tolerated me. I was an unmarried Rich bachelor with a strange uncle who vanished one night and I obviously dealt with elves and dwarves and other unseemly folk. No maid in her right mind would even be seen with me let a lone marry me.  
  
That line of thought brought me back to her. If only…I'd have broken every rule had I been old enough. Then Bilbo left…and there was no way for me to find her on my own…without his help. I thought back to the time when I found out who she was. That she was the widow of my mother's brother. My Aunt by marriage. Primula's brother was not spoken much of for he went to live with the Gypsies instead of staying in Hobbiton. In fact…ask any Brandybuck today and they wouldn't mention him.   
  
I didn't care though at the time…I wanted her. Hobbit Society would never allow it though, and Bilbo knew that even if -he- didn't stay on in the Shire…I would and he wanted me to be respectable even if he never was. He'd apparently been responsible for Chloe's mother meeting my uncle and that had further driven a wedge between him and Brandybucks. They never did like to forgive transgressions.  
  
I wondered if…well…Surely after the Ring was taken care of…I would have time to find her. I laughed bitterly…No…likely not. She had never once led me to believe that she would welcome it if I looked for her. Maybe though…had there been something I missed?   
I thought back to the time when I woke up that morning…resting comfortably for the first time in a long while.  
  
--begin flashback--  
  
I blinked drowsily…my head was resting against something much softer than a pillow. I smiled…I was warm…finally…there were interesting smells coming from the kitchen and they almost interested me, but my stomach still didn't agree with me, turning over a couple of times. I paled little…wondering if I was going to throw up. Then I became aware that I was cuddled up securely in someone's arm…a feminine arm. I opened my eyes to get a better look at her.  
  
I remembered…being outside…and very cold. Then falling from pain…and my chest constricting…I still felt that tightening feeling around my lungs and when I breathed…I heard a horrible rasping sound. What I saw was Chloe…and I remembered…I had mistaken her for my mother….and begged her to stay with me. I had been…awfully delirious and I remembered Bilbo's stern look. Still…the dryness in my throat and eyes was enough to make me squirm, attempting to rub them both. She saw that I had awoken and smiled at me.  
  
That smile…I tentatively responded…though I was embarrassed beyond all belief…"Hullo…" I could barely speak…it hurt just moving.  
  
She immediately took action, as she had some tea ready. She had me sip it slowly to clear my throat as best we could. "Good morning, Frodo. Do you remember me?" She was so -calm-…so serene…  
  
I blushed…my cheeks red as my hair fell in my eyes, "Yes." it felt a little easier to talk after drinking the ginger tea. "You're Chloe…I'm…sorry for …this…" I lowered my gaze shyly as she helped me to drink a bit more tea. I felt very weak…and could hardly hold the cup. My stomach was telling me that I'd better not have any more than tea.  
  
"Don't be sorry, Frodo." she laughed softly and brushed my curls away from my eyes. "You seem…just a little better…but I don't like the sound of your breathing. Bilbo says we can't get a doctor here because of the storm."  
  
And indeed…it was still raging around us, I looked over at my window and saw the high snowdrifts, frowning for a moment. I'd never seen so much of it… I wondered if we were going to be snowed in.  
  
"Its hard…" I managed, "It hurts…" I finished the tea cup and smiled at her. "Thank you for staying…you don't have to…"  
  
"Nonsense." she shook her head, "I want to. Besides, it helps your Uncle, and it makes it easier for us to get you to drink and eat. Though I daresay you must be hungry…you haven't eaten for at least twelve hours."  
  
I paled at the thought of food, "N-no thank you…" I whispered miserably. "I just can't …"  
  
"Can't eat, My Lad?" Bilbo was in the doorway with the tray that I had smelt him preparing a little earlier. I gazed over at him with a fearful expression.  
  
--end flashback--  
  
I started back to reality, remembering Bilbo's look when he saw me so close to her. There had been all the warning signs and I hadn't noticed. I sighed and kicked at a small snowdrift by the bench while I drank a bit more wine. I was feeling a little tired now…maybe it was the walk. I felt the cold licking about me, even through the thick brown coat I wore. It was oddly…comforting…like it was something I would have to get used to. I don't know where the feeling came from…I was suddenly afraid that I would be cold all of my life…I played over that thought in my mind while I held my pipe in my mouth, gaining what warmth I could from it. Perhaps it was time to head back and stop feeling sorry for myself. Maybe it was also time for another sip of wine.  
  
* * * 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight  
  
I headed back to Bag End wearily, it was early in the morning when I finally decided to head home. I couldn't really ignore the fact that I was extremely depressed. Everything in my life was going wrong right now and to top it all off I had to leave the Shire. Sometimes I thought that life conspired against me. Even before my parents died I had not really had much chance to live like other hobbits. I was never very healthy and once or twice gave my mother quite a scare.  
  
Reading the journals was making me even more depressed because I missed Bilbo. Sure, he hadn't always let me have my own way…but I loved him. He had been like a father to me and I couldn't understand why he'd simply left like that. Did he know how much it would hurt…how much it would remind me of when my parents had left? I never got a chance to say goodbye, I never got a chance to do anything other than accept what was happening.  
  
But that was it wasn't it? That was my life…I leant on a fence and steadied my feet. The wine never really helped, it just … dulled the pain. I stumbled along the fence, breathing heavily. Sometime ago I had stuffed the wineglass into my pocket and began to wonder why Bag End seemed so far away. That was when I slipped and fell into a snow bank and groaned. I'd hurt something…  
  
I staggered to my feet and then collapsed…pain shot through my right foot and I shuddered. As I lay there in the snow bank, shivering and in pain I glanced up to the sky and saw snow began to fall once again. Tears caught in my eyes as I tried to struggle, but completely failed to get to my feet, I tried to look at the ankle and paled when I saw the swelling. Frodo Baggins…you darn fool.   
  
I looked up and down the road…no one would be up at this time of the morning. I shook snow from my hair…it was coming down a little faster now. There was nothing for it but to crawl to Bag End…otherwise I would sit here and freeze to death. I gritted my teeth and began to pull myself to the roadside, that's when I heard a female voice squeak in surprise.   
  
"Sir? Sir…are you hurt?" I recognized the voice…and sighed with relief. It was Sam Gamgee's sister Marigold, young…about 31 I thought…but she had quite a bit of sense. I looked up at the figure who was looking quite as astonished as myself to find someone else on the road this morning. She wrinkled her nose a little…I think she smelled the wine…When I raised my head she gasped in surprise. "Mr. Baggins! Oh Dear…Oh Dear…let me help you." she hurried over and knelt beside me.   
  
Marigold was a comely lass, of stocky build and dark-blonde locks that fell about her hazel eyes. She had her brother's look to her, but beyond that they were as different as carrots and cinnamon. "Hullo…" I managed weakly, my cheeks red with embarrassment to having been caught in such a disgraceful state.  
  
"Goodness Gracious, Mr. Baggins, what happened…oh dear, your poor ankle, you must have slipped on that nasty sheet of ice. Here….take my hand and lean on me." she held out her small hand and I looked at her dubiously, she was not that big of a lass and I would easily clear a foot over her. "Come now, Mr. Baggins…I'm not as frail as one of them Bracegirldles…take my hand now." her voice held quite a bit of determination and I sighed and finally accepted her help.   
  
"Marigold Gamgee…isn't it?" My words to me came out slurred and unsteady…but I was quite sure who -she- was. The lass nodded and to my surprise easily managed to help me rise. I winced, cringing at the pain and found that my fingers were not working properly. I draped my arm around her and she held me up miraculously.   
  
"Yes, Mr. Baggins. That's it…lean on me now. Steady…" she glanced about, "Dear me the snow is starting to come down very hard. We have to get you home."  
  
"Home…" I sighed softly, my head swimming, "Home is far away…"  
She half carried…half dragged me up to Bag End as the snow kept falling heavier and heavier. Once we got there, she had to fumble in my pockets for the keys because I was too incoherent to do anything but giggle briefly when she found the wine glass. She shook her head, and at that moment I wondered…what had she to shake her head about? She was up this early too…and what was she doing outside and alone? I gazed at her…she really was a comely lass…and full of spirit.  
  
Marigold unlocked the door and thankfully managed to get me inside and down on the nearest chair. I literally fell on it wincing in pain from my ankle. I didn't notice then…but the rest of me was pretty numb with cold. The fire in the fireplace was dying out as Marigold shut the door. This would never do…she should be alone in Bag End…with me…at this hour.  
  
"Run along home, now…Th-Thank-you." My teeth chattered as I gazed at her. She was bundled up in thread-bare sweaters and scarves but at least she had the sense to dress warmly. Her cheeks were rosy pink from the cold outside and she shook her head furiously.  
  
"I wouldn't think of it." she marched straight over to the fire place, "I'll just put a log on the fire and set you up comfy and then I'll go fetch Sam. Just you sit there, now and don't you be doing anything foolish like trying to get up." Her voice was stern…and I smiled a little.   
  
"Yes, Ma'am…" I watched her as she put a few more logs in the fire and then came back over to me. She found a wooden chair and a footrest and brought them over. The fire now rose warm and full and I was thankful of the heat. She took off her gloves and rubbed her hands together a bit, watching me in concern. I chuckled a little to myself, because I had a feeling I knew what she was thinking. She was literally in the lion's den. I was as harmless as a mouse, though with all the rumors about hobbit on, I wasn't surprised at her reaction.  
  
"Put your foot up here, Mr. Baggins, and let me take a look at it." she directed calmly. I did as I was instructed and she smiled softly. I leaned back and let her tend to my foot …and as she did, I gazed at the fire…and remembered another lass…  
  
--begin flashback--  
  
"Frodo." Chloe shook her head in amusement as I gazed at her. We were lying in my bed and her arm was wrapped around me in comfort. The fire in my room was burning steadily and despite the hell of the last few days I was finally feeling warm and cozy. They had had their hands full with me for I had not kept anything down until recently, Chloe had tried her best to get me to take even the easiest of food, but nothing had stayed down…until she directed Bilbo to prepare a strange mixture of spices in a simple chicken broth. She had patiently dipped bread into the broth and placed tiny pieces into my mouth while I chewed and swallowed hesitantly.   
  
She'd told me stories of the wood, and calmed me enough that I would eat. The bread was soft enough that it had trickled easily down my throat and there was something in the broth that was making me a little lightheaded and drowsy. Bilbo had come in earlier and tried to tell Chloe to leave me to sleep, but I wasn't having any of that. I was warm for the first time in days and my stomach didn't feel like it was going to heave. After I ate the broth…she had given me some of the medicine that had been left behind from the last time I had a fever like this.  
  
After I had laid down for a while and been calm I found that I was finally comfortable enough that I could sleep, my voice hoarse still though and my throat numb with pain I whispered, "Chloe…thank-you…I…like you…please don't go away…." My eyes drooped as I struggled to keep them open.  
  
"I like you too Frodo." she had said, and for some reason…that had lifted my heart and I smiled weakly. "Sleep now, and don't try and talk." she directed gently.  
  
I obliged and finally drifted off to sleep, wondering..wondering if she would still like me later.  
  
"Frodo…" I heard a voice calling urgently.  
  
---end flashback--  
  
"Mr. Baggins……Frodo…Mr. Frodo…are you alright?" Marigolds urgent tone shook me back to reality and for a moment I thought she was Chloe….a little deliriously I reached out to touch her face…even through fingers that were numb with cold.. I wanted Chloe. "Mr. Baggins?" her eyes were wide and her lips trembled. Full lips…I cursed that I was too weak to move…and my hand dropped down.  
  
"Go on now…" I managed to get out, suddenly my temper was rearing its ugly head, and my eyes were showing their disappointment when I realized who she was. I glared at her for not being the one I wanted. "Go on home little girl…I'll be alright. Thank-you. You've done enough." I reached into my pocket and plucked out a few silver coins, dropping them into her stunned hand.  
  
She dropped the money on a nearby table and rose steadily, her eyes flashing though she was trying to remain calm and polite. Well now…a Gamgee with spirit. I smiled at her sardonically. "I don't want your money, Mr. Baggins. I was just trying to help you." she wrapped her scarf around her neck, "Clearly…YOU don't want to be helped." she could not resist snaping. As she did, her cheeks flamed with color and and she strode over to the door, opening it…to a blast of snow and wind that literally sent her sprawling. She let out a yelp and jumped to her feet. Quickly, she rushed to the door and shut it, latching it with a panting breath.   
  
"It seems." I tried hard to be as stoic as I possibly could. "You're my guest for the night." The absolute -last- thing I wanted was someone else in Bag End tonight.   
  
* * * 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note I did switch to third person when I added in a new character. I've been having a bit of trouble with first person lately.  
  
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CHAPTER NINE -- Icicles in the Night  
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Marigold stood with her back to the door, regarding the Master of Bag End with an expression that bordered on a mixture of pity and fear. She didn't really have a choice at the moment. She was practically stuck here for the next few hours at any rate. Hopefully she could get home by then and explain to Mamma that it had taken longer than she thought at the cottons to bring the baby's fever down. But this one…she couldn't tell exactly what was wrong with him though she suspected it had a great deal to do with too much wine given the glassy look in his bloodshot eyes. No sleep? That was likely the case too. He held his hands under both arms, crossed over his waist, warming them, and he still shivered every now and then, trying not to let her see. In turn…she knew he was studying her. He wouldn't find much to look at for she was quite bundled in -proper- winter clothing. Why someone would go out in only a coat and a scarf in weather like this she would never know.  
  
Marigold cleared her throat, advancing towards the fire. She frowned as Frodo's eyes followed her every move. "Your hands should warm up soon, Mr. Frodo." she said cheerily, "Should I make some tea? Could be just the thing to warm you up."  
  
"There's a bottle of wine in my study, I would appreciate it if you would get it." Frodo said mildly.  
  
"Wine." she repeated, eyeing him with a hint of disproval in her eyes. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo…but I think that tea…"  
  
"I'll thank you not to recommend what is or is not good for me, Miss Gamgee. I can take care of myself. " he snapped, his eyes flashing. "Now, are you going to get it or not?"  
  
She meant to speak...but drew her lips together in a thin line. With a frown she began to unwrap her scarf as she walked in the direction he indicated. "Yes, Sir." She nodded crisply. Shaking her head, she had no idea why Sam liked working for him. He had the manners of a goat. She paused as she opened the door to his study and took a look inside…and frowned.  
  
Not the tidiest of hobbits...certainly...papers were strew about from an open window. No -wonder- it was so cold in Bag End. She moved towards the window and shut it. She screwed up her nose at the stale smell of wine and glanced about her eyes falling down upon a tray of...barely eaten dinner...and more than one empty bottles of wine. Afraid of disturbing anything less he take her to task for it she found one that was half full and bit her lip. He needed more than wine. Sam wouldn't like it if she let him drink himself to sleep. She smiled a bit...and opened the window...and poured the wine bottle out. It appeared to be the last one in the room too. Poor Mr. Frodo would have to settle for Tea.  
  
Marigold chuckled a little to herself, and made her way quickly to the kitchen, hoping that there would be something already prepared and perhaps it would need heating up. She carried the tray of day old half eaten food and dumped it. Thankfully...Sam had control over the kitchen and it -was- in order.   
  
"Marigold?" Frodo called irritably. "What are you doing back there?...I'm thirsty..." She thought she might have heard a whimper...but decided it was her imagination.  
  
"I'll be along in a minute, Mr. Frodo." she called back earnestly.  
  
Frodo fretted a little, he really didn't -want- anyone there. Sighing he was beginning to wonder why his hands weren't warming up...they seemed awfully cold...he stared at the fire, his mouth desperately dry. He needed a drink.  
  
"I'm...having trouble locating that wine..." Marigold stalled as she began the task of preparing something a little better for her brother's master.  
  
There was no answer from Frodo.  
  
She finally returned to the front room, holding a small tray after about five or ten long...anxious minutes. What on earth was she doing back there? Frodo wondered...and then he scowled when he saw her. She held a tray...he looked at it with a grimace...there was a bowl...and a cup of tea. Certainly no wine in sight! She'd been in his kitchen.  
  
Marigold was of course smart enough not to bring the tray right over to him and set it down just out of reach, she had taken off her coat and was wearing a nice…faded green sweater and woolen skirt. Had he been alert…he would have noticed how tired and drawn she looked having spent the last fourty-eight hours caring for the Cotton baby who had been sick with a raging fever. She was certainly not going to let someone like Frodo Baggins get to her after that. Had he realized that, he probably would have just let her do what she wanted to do and that was to get something in his stomach and put him to bed. But sadly…..Frodo was not himself.  
  
"How -dare- you!" the young master blurted out, his eyes flashing, he almost stood up, but his head reeled and he fell back down on the chair shaking. Marigold frowned and went over to him, he flinched away…but she wasn't about to put up with any nonsense…even though had he been in a normal state…he'd be quite capable of pushing her away. She felt his cheeks…ice cold…and glanced down to how he was holding his hands underneath his arms. She frowned a little,  
  
"Let me see one of your hands…" she ordered softly, in the tone an older relative would give to a younger one.  
  
Frodo hesitated at first. All he really wanted was something to drink…his throat felt like sandpaper. Sighing…he finally pulled one out for her to look at. She took it gently…hers weren't hard and calloused…like he'd expected them to be…most working class hobbits did not have soft hands. He allowed his mind to marvel at them for a while, forgetting everything else. They were also warm.  
  
She turned his hand over and peered carefully at it under the firelight. It was freezing to touch, and with both her hands she began to rub it gently on both sides. She saw with regret that the tips of his fingers were near blue with cold.  
  
Frodo started…then he half smiled, looking up at her. His mind had been focusing on her hands, but really she was quite a comely lass. He looked away though, controlling himself as best as he could. She wasn't Chloe…he had to keep that in mind. She was Sam Gamgee's sister and he had no right to even -think- anything. Come on Frodo…He willed himself. You haven't had that much wine have you? His mind swam and the room was beginning to spin. His stomach didn't feel at -all- well.  
  
His mind was reeling....and he felt nautious. He could hear her words..."Some tea may help you feel better, Mr. Frodo..." But she wasn't who he wanted to hear. His lips trembled. He remembered another face...another who had not looked at him with pity...Not her...no...his stomach churned and he was going to be sick...very very sick.  
  
He whimpered, clutching the girl to him, but as he moved his stomach disagreed with him -entirely -...and the bitter contents of a night spent in self degradation came churning upwards and the unfortunate Gamgee encountered the worst of Frodo Baggins...down her back.  
  
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	10. Chapter 10, 11 & 12

Author's note : Due to problems, my chapters were a bit screwy. There are 12 chapters for Icicles in the Night. This mail includes Chapter 10 , 11 & 12 because I'm confused now by ff.net and because I started writing too many stories.J  
  
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Chapter TEN  
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I headed back to Bag End wearily, it was early in the morning when I finally decided to head home. I couldn't really ignore the fact that I was extremely depressed. Everything in my life was going wrong right now and to top it all off I had to leave the Shire. Sometimes I thought that life conspired against me. Even before my parents died I had not really had much chance to live like other hobbits. I was never very healthy and once or twice gave my mother quite a scare.  
  
Reading the journals was making me even more depressed because I missed Bilbo. Sure, he hadn't always let me have my own way_but I loved him. He had been like a father to me and I couldn't understand why he'd simply left like that. Did he know how much it would hurt_how much it would remind me of when my parents had left? I never got a chance to say goodbye, I never got a chance to do anything other than accept what was happening.  
  
But that was it wasn't it? That was my life_I leant on a fence and steadied my feet. The wine never really helped, it just _ dulled the pain. I stumbled along the fence, breathing heavily. Sometime ago I had stuffed the wineglass into my pocket and began to wonder why Bag End seemed so far away. That was when I slipped and fell into a snow bank and groaned. I'd hurt something_  
  
I staggered to my feet and then collapsed_pain shot through my right foot and I shuddered. As I lay there in the snow bank, shivering and in pain I glanced up to the sky and saw snow began to fall once again. Tears caught in my eyes as I tried to struggle, but completely failed to get to my feet, I tried to look at the ankle and paled when I saw the swelling. Frodo Baggins_you darn fool.   
  
I looked up and down the road_no one would be up at this time of the morning. I shook snow from my hair_it was coming down a little faster now. There was nothing for it but to crawl to Bag End_otherwise I would sit here and freeze to death. I gritted my teeth and began to pull myself to the roadside, that's when I heard a female voice squeak in surprise.   
  
"Sir? Sir_are you hurt?" I recognized the voice_and sighed with relief. It was Sam Gamgee's sister Marigold, young_about 31 I thought_but she had quite a bit of sense. I looked up at the figure who was looking quite as astonished as myself to find someone else on the road this morning. She wrinkled her nose a little_I think she smelled the wine_When I raised my head she gasped in surprise. "Mr. Baggins! Oh Dear_Oh Dear_let me help you." she hurried over and knelt beside me.   
  
Marigold was a comely lass, of stocky build and dark-blonde locks that fell about her hazel eyes. She had her brother's look to her, but beyond that they were as different as carrots and cinnamon. "Hullo_" I managed weakly, my cheeks red with embarrassment to having been caught in such a disgraceful state.  
  
"Goodness Gracious, Mr. Baggins, what happened_oh dear, your poor ankle, you must have slipped on that nasty sheet of ice. Here_.take my hand and lean on me." she held out her small hand and I looked at her dubiously, she was not that big of a lass and I would easily clear a foot over her. "Come now, Mr. Baggins_I'm not as frail as one of them Bracegirldles_take my hand now." her voice held quite a bit of determination and I sighed and finally accepted her help.   
  
"Marigold Gamgee_isn't it?" My words to me came out slurred and unsteady_but I was quite sure who -she- was. The lass nodded and to my surprise easily managed to help me rise. I winced, cringing at the pain and found that my fingers were not working properly. I draped my arm around her and she held me up miraculously.   
  
"Yes, Mr. Baggins. That's it_lean on me now. Steady_" she glanced about, "Dear me the snow is starting to come down very hard. We have to get you home."  
  
"Home_" I sighed softly, my head swimming, "Home is far away_"  
She half carried_half dragged me up to Bag End as the snow kept falling heavier and heavier. Once we got there, she had to fumble in my pockets for the keys because I was too incoherent to do anything but giggle briefly when she found the wine glass. She shook her head, and at that moment I wondered_what had she to shake her head about? She was up this early too_and what was she doing outside and alone? I gazed at her_she really was a comely lass_and full of spirit.  
  
Marigold unlocked the door and thankfully managed to get me inside and down on the nearest chair. I literally fell on it wincing in pain from my ankle. I didn't notice then_but the rest of me was pretty numb with cold. The fire in the fireplace was dying out as Marigold shut the door. This would never do_she should be alone in Bag End_with me_at this hour.  
  
"Run along home, now_Th-Thank-you." My teeth chattered as I gazed at her. She was bundled up in thread-bare sweaters and scarves but at least she had the sense to dress warmly. Her cheeks were rosy pink from the cold outside and she shook her head furiously.  
  
"I wouldn't think of it." she marched straight over to the fire place, "I'll just put a log on the fire and set you up comfy and then I'll go fetch Sam. Just you sit there, now and don't you be doing anything foolish like trying to get up." Her voice was stern_and I smiled a little.   
  
"Yes, Ma'am_" I watched her as she put a few more logs in the fire and then came back over to me. She found a wooden chair and a footrest and brought them over. The fire now rose warm and full and I was thankful of the heat. She took off her gloves and rubbed her hands together a bit, watching me in concern. I chuckled a little to myself, because I had a feeling I knew what she was thinking. She was literally in the lion's den. I was as harmless as a mouse, though with all the rumors about hobbit on, I wasn't surprised at her reaction.  
  
"Put your foot up here, Mr. Baggins, and let me take a look at it." she directed calmly. I did as I was instructed and she smiled softly. I leaned back and let her tend to my foot _and as she did, I gazed at the fire_and remembered another lass_  
  
--begin flashback--  
  
"Frodo." Chloe shook her head in amusement as I gazed at her. We were lying in my bed and her arm was wrapped around me in comfort. The fire in my room was burning steadily and despite the hell of the last few days I was finally feeling warm and cozy. They had had their hands full with me for I had not kept anything down until recently, Chloe had tried her best to get me to take even the easiest of food, but nothing had stayed down_until she directed Bilbo to prepare a strange mixture of spices in a simple chicken broth. She had patiently dipped bread into the broth and placed tiny pieces into my mouth while I chewed and swallowed hesitantly.   
  
She'd told me stories of the wood, and calmed me enough that I would eat. The bread was soft enough that it had trickled easily down my throat and there was something in the broth that was making me a little lightheaded and drowsy. Bilbo had come in earlier and tried to tell Chloe to leave me to sleep, but I wasn't having any of that. I was warm for the first time in days and my stomach didn't feel like it was going to heave. After I ate the broth_she had given me some of the medicine that had been left behind from the last time I had a fever like this.  
  
After I had laid down for a while and been calm I found that I was finally comfortable enough that I could sleep, my voice hoarse still though and my throat numb with pain I whispered, "Chloe_thank-you_I_like you_please don't go away_." My eyes drooped as I struggled to keep them open.  
  
"I like you too Frodo." she had said, and for some reason_that had lifted my heart and I smiled weakly. "Sleep now, and don't try and talk." she directed gently.  
  
I obliged and finally drifted off to sleep, wondering..wondering if she would still like me later.  
  
"Frodo_" I heard a voice calling urgently.  
  
---end flashback--  
  
"Mr. Baggins__Frodo_Mr. Frodo_are you alright?" Marigolds urgent tone shook me back to reality and for a moment I thought she was Chloe_.a little deliriously I reached out to touch her face_even through fingers that were numb with cold.. I wanted Chloe. "Mr. Baggins?" her eyes were wide and her lips trembled. Full lips_I cursed that I was too weak to move_and my hand dropped down.  
  
"Go on now_" I managed to get out, suddenly my temper was rearing its ugly head, and my eyes were showing their disappointment when I realized who she was. I glared at her for not being the one I wanted. "Go on home little girl_I'll be alright. Thank-you. You've done enough." I reached into my pocket and plucked out a few silver coins, dropping them into her stunned hand.  
  
She dropped the money on a nearby table and rose steadily, her eyes flashing though she was trying to remain calm and polite. Well now_a Gamgee with spirit. I smiled at her sardonically. "I don't want your money, Mr. Baggins. I was just trying to help you." she wrapped her scarf around her neck, "Clearly_YOU don't want to be helped." she could not resist snaping. As she did, her cheeks flamed with color and and she strode over to the door, opening it_to a blast of snow and wind that literally sent her sprawling. She let out a yelp and jumped to her feet. Quickly, she rushed to the door and shut it, latching it with a panting breath.   
  
"It seems." I tried hard to be as stoic as I possibly could. "You're my guest for the night." The absolute -last- thing I wanted was someone else in Bag End tonight.   
  
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CHAPTER ELEVEN  
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Marigold stood with her back to the door, regarding the Master of Bag End with an expression that bordered on a mixture of pity and fear. She didn't really have a choice at the moment. She was practically stuck here for the next few hours at any rate. Hopefully she could get home by then and explain to Mamma that it had taken longer than she thought at the cottons to bring the baby's fever down. But this one_she couldn't tell exactly what was wrong with him though she suspected it had a great deal to do with too much wine given the glassy look in his bloodshot eyes. No sleep? That was likely the case too. He held his hands under both arms, crossed over his waist, warming them, and he still shivered every now and then, trying not to let her see. In turn_she knew he was studying her. He wouldn't find much to look at for she was quite bundled in -proper- winter clothing. Why someone would go out in only a coat and a scarf in weather like this she would never know.  
  
Marigold cleared her throat, advancing towards the fire. She frowned as Frodo's eyes followed her every move. "Your hands should warm up soon, Mr. Frodo." she said cheerily, "Should I make some tea? Could be just the thing to warm you up."  
  
"There's a bottle of wine in my study, I would appreciate it if you would get it." Frodo said mildly.  
  
"Wine." she repeated, eyeing him with a hint of disproval in her eyes. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo_but I think that tea_"  
  
"I'll thank you not to recommend what is or is not good for me, Miss Gamgee. I can take care of myself. " he snapped, his eyes flashing. "Now, are you going to get it or not?"  
  
She meant to speak...but drew her lips together in a thin line. With a frown she began to unwrap her scarf as she walked in the direction he indicated. "Yes, Sir." She nodded crisply. Shaking her head, she had no idea why Sam liked working for him. He had the manners of a goat. She paused as she opened the door to his study and took a look inside_and frowned.  
  
Not the tidiest of hobbits...certainly...papers were strew about from an open window. No -wonder- it was so cold in Bag End. She moved towards the window and shut it. She screwed up her nose at the stale smell of wine and glanced about her eyes falling down upon a tray of...barely eaten dinner...and more than one empty bottles of wine. Afraid of disturbing anything less he take her to task for it she found one that was half full and bit her lip. He needed more than wine. Sam wouldn't like it if she let him drink himself to sleep. She smiled a bit...and opened the window...and poured the wine bottle out. It appeared to be the last one in the room too. Poor Mr. Frodo would have to settle for Tea.  
  
Marigold chuckled a little to herself, and made her way quickly to the kitchen, hoping that there would be something already prepared and perhaps it would need heating up. She carried the tray of day old half eaten food and dumped it. Thankfully...Sam had control over the kitchen and it -was- in order.   
  
"Marigold?" Frodo called irritably. "What are you doing back there?...I'm thirsty..." She thought she might have heard a whimper...but decided it was her imagination.  
  
"I'll be along in a minute, Mr. Frodo." she called back earnestly.  
  
Frodo fretted a little, he really didn't -want- anyone there. Sighing he was beginning to wonder why his hands weren't warming up...they seemed awfully cold...he stared at the fire, his mouth desperately dry. He needed a drink.  
  
"I'm...having trouble locating that wine..." Marigold stalled as she began the task of preparing something a little better for her brother's master.  
  
There was no answer from Frodo.  
  
She finally returned to the front room, holding a small tray after about five or ten long...anxious minutes. What on earth was she doing back there? Frodo wondered...and then he scowled when he saw her. She held a tray...he looked at it with a grimace...there was a bowl...and a cup of tea. Certainly no wine in sight! She'd been in his kitchen.  
  
Marigold was of course smart enough not to bring the tray right over to him and set it down just out of reach, she had taken off her coat and was wearing a nice_faded green sweater and woolen skirt. Had he been alert_he would have noticed how tired and drawn she looked having spent the last fourty-eight hours caring for the Cotton baby who had been sick with a raging fever. She was certainly not going to let someone like Frodo Baggins get to her after that. Had he realized that, he probably would have just let her do what she wanted to do and that was to get something in his stomach and put him to bed. But sadly_..Frodo was not himself.  
  
"How -dare- you!" the young master blurted out, his eyes flashing, he almost stood up, but his head reeled and he fell back down on the chair shaking. Marigold frowned and went over to him, he flinched away_but she wasn't about to put up with any nonsense_even though had he been in a normal state_he'd be quite capable of pushing her away. She felt his cheeks_ice cold_and glanced down to how he was holding his hands underneath his arms. She frowned a little,  
  
"Let me see one of your hands_" she ordered softly, in the tone an older relative would give to a younger one.  
  
Frodo hesitated at first. All he really wanted was something to drink_his throat felt like sandpaper. Sighing_he finally pulled one out for her to look at. She took it gently_hers weren't hard and calloused_like he'd expected them to be_most working class hobbits did not have soft hands. He allowed his mind to marvel at them for a while, forgetting everything else. They were also warm.  
  
She turned his hand over and peered carefully at it under the firelight. It was freezing to touch, and with both her hands she began to rub it gently on both sides. She saw with regret that the tips of his fingers were near blue with cold.  
  
Frodo started_then he half smiled, looking up at her. His mind had been focusing on her hands, but really she was quite a comely lass. He looked away though, controlling himself as best as he could. She wasn't Chloe_he had to keep that in mind. She was Sam Gamgee's sister and he had no right to even -think- anything. Come on Frodo_He willed himself. You haven't had that much wine have you? His mind swam and the room was beginning to spin. His stomach didn't feel at -all- well.  
  
His mind was reeling....and he felt nautious. He could hear her words..."Some tea may help you feel better, Mr. Frodo..." But she wasn't who he wanted to hear. His lips trembled. He remembered another face...another who had not looked at him with pity...Not her...no...his stomach churned and he was going to be sick...very very sick.  
  
He whimpered, clutching the girl to him, but as he moved his stomach disagreed with him -entirely -...and the bitter contents of a night spent in self degradation came churning upwards and the unfortunate Gamgee encountered the worst of Frodo Baggins...down her back.  
  
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CHAPTER 12 -- ICICLES IN THE NIGHT   
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Marigold could not have been more surprised at what had just happened. Frodo whimpered miserably…almost collapsed entirely upon her. His weight was nearly more than she could carry and she frantically tried to get him back onto the chair. "Mr. Frodo…Mr. Frodo?" She tried to wake him up but to no avail. "Hello?"  
  
Frodo was passed out.  
  
Marigold sighed trying to hold him up. Well…she supposed that the first thing to do was clean him up…maybe that -would- wake him…and she had to get out of her own shirt now thanks to him. The Gamgee grumbled. He was awfully heavy…and she didn't know if she'd be able to get him all the way to his room…in fact…she didn't even know where his room was! She did know where his study was though...and there was a couch there so she resolved to try and get him there. It was near the Kitchen and she'd be able to prepare some warm water to clean him off.  
  
The Gamgee lass tried to revive him a little and managed…but he was groggy and could barely stand. The room was spinning and his stomach was still churning…he stumbled against her as she half dragged-half-carried him to the study and he collapsed on the couch. He gazed up at the ceiling his eyes swimming. It had been one of the worst days of his life and here he was…barely able to move and he was confused as to just who was with him and where he was. She put a pillow under his head and sighed. He was in terrible shape but he was too big for her to carry all the way to his bedroom. In fact…she didn't even know where It was. This would have to do.  
  
Marigold arranged a couple of throw pillows under Frodo's head. She found a quilt lying down underneath his desk and shook it out. Carefully, she drew it around the master of bagend and tucked him into it. "You just rest here…I've got to find your room and get some clothes and some hot water and…" she wrinkles her nose. "Soap."  
  
With that, she turned and stalked out of the room, indignant at her predicament. Dawn would come soon and her mother would not be looking for her…thinking she was at the Cottons safe. She hoped that Sam would come to check on Frodo but she wasn't sure he'd even be able to -get- to Bag End in that storm. Ah well…there was nothing to do but press on. She rummaged in a few chests in Frodo's bedroom and found a fresh shirt, as well as one that would probably fit her. Taking as little time as possible she drew off her sweater and tossed it into the hamper. The back of her skirt was also completely ruined. She sighed. She'd have to deal with men's breeches.   
  
She rolled up the trouser legs of one of Frodo's extra pants and put those on. Far…far too big for her, but she didn't quite have a choice at the moment and she was certainly not going to spend the next few hours wandering around with her backside mussed and smelly. She found a shirt and pulled that on too, and also had to roll up the sleeves. She wasn't used to wearing such new material and was -quite- soft compared to the dresses she generally wore. Luckily…her hair had missed most of the indignity of what had happened, but nonetheless…to avoid possible future problems she decided to roll it up and pin it into a thick bun.  
  
All that completed she went back to the kitchen and took the kettle off of the fire. She mixed a basin of cool and warm water and threw a couple of towels over her shoulder. Now, carrying towels…extra shirt and the basin she balanced everything quite skillfully as she made her way back to the study.  
  
Frodo blinked at her from his position on the couch…confusion evident in his large blue eyes. She walked over and placed everything down easily. "There now, Mr. Frodo…feeling a bit warmer?" she asked as cheerily as she could muster.  
  
"A little…" he managed…..he was trying to figure out what had happened exactly to wind him up here. His brain was not really focusing too well and he was quite embarrassed by everything. He was usually not so gruff and ill-tempered…but the day had really…well…not been his best.   
  
"Lets get you cleaned up then." she said crisply…as though she might be talking to a child.  
  
Frodo scowled, curling under the blankets into a little ball. "I don't need to…I think you'd best just find a place to lie down and leave me here. I'll be fine…" he turned away, burying his face in the pillows. He wanted to be alone…and wallow in his own misery. He didn't want company and least of all…he didn't want anyone mothering him. That was the LAST thing he wanted. He just wished that his fingers and toes weren't so cold…and that his stomach didn't feel so…icky.   
  
Used to stubborn children, Marigold folded her arms with a pleasant smile, "Now then Mr. Frodo. I'm not going to leave you while you're still lying in your own filth." she chirped crisply. "You're in no state to argue, and I'll warrant you'll thank me in the morning. And I tell you what…I'll bring in a treat after that will be just the ticket to fix your stomach so you can sleep." she coaxed him gently out of the small ball.  
  
"What kind of treat?" He wasn't interested in food, his stomach was altogether too dangerous right now for anything of the kind. He turned to look at her. She wasn't Chloe…Chloe had known exactly what he wanted and had always known how to make him feel better. Bilbo too. He wished they were both here with him now…wished with all his heart. He swallowed, misery showing in his eyes.  
  
"It wouldn't be a treat if I told you what it was, eh?" she pulled down the blanket and began to cheerfully unbutton his jacket. "Lets get this off, shall we?" She helped him to sit up just a little and coaxed him to move his arms at the proper times so that she could pull off the wine-soddened material. His shirt underneath was just as bad. Laced with sweat and clinging to his body. She wrinkled her nose again and was glad she was used to smelling such fowl things.   
  
She treated him as though he was no more than a child while undressing him, paying not a whit of attention to the red in his cheeks or any sensitive parts of his body. Once she managed to get him completely undressed she tucked him under the covers and piled his smelly clothes together. "I'm just going to take these out somewhere where we don't have to smell them." she says, "I'd suggest a good burning later today is in order… for that's all they'll be worth, believe you and me. Good gracious me, Mr. Baggins, how did you get yourself into this state, I wonder." Shaking her head she carried the clothes out of the study.  
  
Frodo lay down miserably. It was nice to get out of his wet clothes…but…he wasn't sure how nice it was to be cared for by someone he hardly knew…and Sam's sister no less. He didn't know how he was going to explain this to the Gaffer…and he hoped…he hoped that he could keep control over his senses and his temper. She really was doing her best by him…and a small part of him that he'd buried away that night was glad she hadn't left him.  
  
* * *  
  
TBC 


	11. Chapter 13

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CHAPTER 13 -- ICICLES IN THE NIGHT   
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Frodo lay where he was on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He was miserable…that much was certain. He was as comfortable as he possibly could be but he was miserable. The last 48 hours had been the worst in his life. He'd never been this drunk before and his stomach was queasy. He was also shaking from cold. Every part of him was cold. He wanted…well…he wanted to be warm…to be loved…and to be held…he wanted it so much he could taste it. But the one chance he'd had at love…had been thwarted and he had no idea where she was now. Chloe would have been able to get him to his bedroom…she would be holding him in her arms now…She would be telling him how wonderful he was and how much she liked being with him.  
  
His mind went to Marigold. She was a gentle lass…but hardy….though she was a Gamgee. He couldn't possibly consider her. Why not though? She was sensitive and caring….would she consider him? Probably not after tonight.. He was sure that he'd made such a bad impression she'd run for miles. He looked at her as she entered the room again. She'd stopped to wash her face and bring a big basin of water and soap a couple of towels slung over her shoulder. She looked a little funny in his clothes and he had to smile. And for some reason…he giggled.  
  
Marigold peered at him strangely, not entirely sure what Frodo Baggins had to laugh about and certainly if he didn't stop she'd have to tell him a thing or two! She pulled up a stool near the couch so she could sit and regarded him. He was a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot though they gazed at her with an intensity that made her shiver. "What's so funny?" she asked as she wrung out a cloth and wiped some soap on it.  
  
"N…nothing." Frodo smiled looking at her. He imagined waking up next to her every morning…how nice that would be. Was she a good cook? If the Gaffer insisted…Frodo wouldn't have a choice. He -would- do the right thing though if it came down to it. Everyone already thought he was odd.  
  
She started to wash his face and he couldn't help but continue giggling. Something was making him lightheaded. She put her hands on her hips for a moment and glared at him in annoyance. "Now Mr. Frodo…you have to let me clean you up."  
  
"I am.." he gasped. "Its just…funny…" he smiled then and her temper melted. It was the alcohol affecting him. She remembered once finding Sam after he and Rosie had had an argument and he was drunk like this. Giggling at nothing. "M..marigold…can I ask you something?" he finally calmed down enough to make a coherent sentence.  
  
She resumed cleaning his face and behind his ears, moving the warm water down his neck It felt very good…and her hands were soft. "Yes, Mr. Frodo. Go ahead…" she rinsed the cloth and began to wipe the soap away now, lifting his head up so that she could get to the back of his neck.  
  
"Are you spoken for?" Frodo asked bluntly….he would not have been so blunt if he had been himself but he wasn't and his mind was not especially clear. She began to work on his chest. Frodo tensed slightly as he hadn't had anyone touch that particular area in a long time.  
  
It was finally Marigold's turn to blush. She stared at Frodo for a long moment, "No." she shook her head at last…her mind had drifted to Tom…Rosie's brother. He was Frodo's complete opposite. A down to earth hobbit that she had been quite taken with for a long time now. He worked hard and he was sensible and dependable. She had a feeling that Frodo had a hard time being sensible. She felt a little sorry for him though. He lived all alone in this huge smial with no one to take care of him. She wasn't thinking about consequences or anything, her mind was entirely on making Frodo feel better.  
  
Frodo didn't pursue the line of questioning, closing his eyes as she continued to wash him. The giggles fled as quickly as they came and depression was setting in again. He didn't understand why his mind was so out of context…then…he remembered something important. Something very important. The Ring. The Ring had been in the clothes Marigold had thrown away. His eyes popped open and he grabbed her wrist fiercely, causing her to shriek in surprise.  
  
"Marigold…" he spoke rather desperately. "My clothes…where are they? There's something I need to get…" he tried to struggle to sit up but his head was too dizzy and he fell back on the pillows. Marigold frowned at him and tried to dislodge her wrist. From somewhere, strength had come to him and he did not release her, his fingers digging in.  
  
"Mr. Frodo…what are you talking about…" Marigold gasped, "You're hurting me…"  
  
He didn't hear her. "My vest…bring it to me! I need it…I need it…" He shoved her roughly away and towards the door…causing the basin of water to slosh to and fro and spill a bit onto the floor. Marigold stared at him in shock. She'd never seen Frodo look so…dangerous before. Even as week as he was from somewhere within him he'd drawn from a terrible strength. "Get it now!" he snapped desperately. "NOW!" His eyes flashed in torment as he shouted at her.  
  
  
Fear gripped her heart and she scrambled to her feet, rubbing her wrist where bruises were already developing. She ran off down the hall back to the kitchen to rummage through the hamper she'd thrown his clothes in. She had no time to think…her heart was beating rapidly. He had looked like he might have hurt her futher if she didn't do as he said! It was the drink…she'd heard tales of how it made people have mood swings.  
  
Rosie ran back, clutching his vest to her and started when she saw Frodo lying on the floor. He'd apparently tried to get up and slipped on the water. He lay there shivering and curled up into a little ball. She knelt down beside him and touched his shoulder. He flinched violently and looked up at her. Seeing the vest he snatched it away from her and tore at a pocket…his fingers closing around something within. He didn't show her but he apparently had what he wanted for he threw the vest away and his fist clutched something.inside. He held it close to him and refused to uncurl….tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with sobs and cold.  
  
TBC 


	12. Chapter 14

Author's note : Sorry for typo in last chapter, was Marigold not Rosie.  
  
CHAPTER 14 : Icicles in the Night  
  
Frodo was queasy and miserable as he looked up at Marigold, wide eyes filled with tears. Marigold eyed the young master of Bag End and was not sure what she should do. With a small sigh, she helped him back onto the couch and gave a small exclamation when he curled up against her and rested his head on her shoulder. All this energy was gone…all anger and emotion drained from his system. Frodo whimpered and clung to the Gamgee with what he had left. "Marigold…" Frodo said at last his body shuddering a little.  
  
"Its alright Mr. Frodo." she told the young master softly. She did not know what was bothering him or why he was acting so oddly though she was sure that most of it was to do with drinking too much wine. She held him in her arms and stroked his curls gently. He reminded her of a small child, one of her little cousins that she often took care of, and she knew that he must not be used to being this way. Something awful must have made him do it.   
  
"Marigold, thank-you." his voice was barely above a whisper. He was beginning to calm down now, and being close to her was warming him up.  
  
Her heart went out to him…poor Mr. Frodo. He really had no body but himself to depend upon and had lost his parents when he was really young. She had a huge family so she couldn't imagine living in this big Smial with only one person rattling around in it. She rubbed his back to warm him as she pulled a second blanket over both of them, finding one underneath the couch.   
  
She had meant to clean him off…but Frodo was so tired, his eyes were drooping and he was looking at her strangely. Frodo smiled and nestled his head against her bosom as he tried to drift off to sleep. Marigold went bright red but after a little while she realized that it really wasn't so bad. He was not quite as cold now as he was when she first found him, and she had a feeling that he would be alright.  
  
"Marigold?" he opened his eyes to look up a her. He was having trouble relaxing, the night had brought his emotions to the forefront and tangled them all up inside. He knew he'd been unforgivable a couple of times...and was surprised that she was still here. He knew he shouldn't be leaning against her like this, but it felt so good….  
  
"Yes Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"I'm sorry…" he whispered softly.  
  
"You don't have anything to be sorry for Mr. Frodo." she said sternly, "We all get under the weather now an' then, so don't you be frettin' about it. Bad things happen, they do. And you can't always rely on yourself to work through them. You may not have any of your own family to depend upon, Mr. Frodo, but we Gamgee's know what you've done for Sam and how much Mr. Bilbo has always helped us. There ain't nothing we wouldn't do for you, Mr. Frodo. You can always count on us." Marigold's voice was softer now as Frodo let his lips rest into a contented smile. "Sleep now, we'll get you in a nice hot bath in the morning when you're stronger for it, and by then the storm will be over."  
  
"Don't leave?" He had a feeling things would not be easy in the morning as she said they would be. His body ached, and he was feeling feverish. How stupid he had been to drink on an empty stomach. He really did deserve what he got.   
  
"I won't leave, Mr. Frodo." Marigold told him quietly, "Just you rest now. There's a good lad."  
  
Lad. Frodo finally felt the world of dreams creeping up on him as his eyes slid closed again. He was far from a lad. And he hoped that things would work out when morning came truly and the Gamgee's realized Marigold had not come home yet.  
  
TBC 


	13. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15 : Icicles in the Night  
  
The night passed into day with little fuss from the weakened Master Baggins. Marigold had prepared a bath in his room and meant to take him to it when he awoke. He was sleeping peacefully, snuggled against the covers and piled in quilts on the couch.   
  
It had taken her some time and a lot of coaxing for him to reach this state. He had a lot of problems, this one, and she could see why Sam spent so much time here. Frodo needed care. He needed someone who could handle his odd behavior as well.   
  
She did not think she was that person, however. She was far from a perfect candidate for Mrs. Frodo Baggins and she shuddered to think what her father was going to say of the fix she'd gotten into not to mention the rest of Hobbiton!  
  
Hopefully, the Gaffer would understand. Hamfast Gamgee tended to be more understanding than most, as he was a bit dotty himself given that he'd worked so long for Mr. Bilbo Baggins and put up with a lot more strangeness from that one.  
  
Marigold had prepared a little breakfast of eggs and fresh apple-muffins, and it was kept warm under a cover on the stove. The ice was thick outside, and she had a feeling not many people would attempt to venture out in it, in fact. It was everywhere, even on the tree branches and on some branches as thick as two fists. She had not been able to get the door open for it was wedged shut with about a foot of ice in front of it, and her energy was spent having taken care of the Baggins all night long so she had not tried to go outside, but had opened a window to let some fresh air in for an hour.  
  
In Frodo's Study however, she kept the fire burning cheerily and made sure the place was nice and warm. She'd found clothing of his and laid them out on his bed. She put a kettle of hot water ready for when he woke up. She was not going to let him get away with not taking a bath…for he needed one.  
  
Frodo stirred when she came in with a pot of tea and laid it down nearby. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced hazily about the room. They finally settled on Marigold and he tried to talk but found that nothing came out. His throat was terribly soar and the only thing that he could remotely manage was a whimper. Marigold frowned at him for a moment when she saw him struggling to speak and shook her head. His eyes were bloodshot and he trembled every now and again as though from cold.  
  
She poured him the tea and stirred in some cream and sugar. His hands were shaking too much to hold the tea properly so she had to hold in in the end despite his look of protest. She did not take no for an answer, and Frodo found himself obeying much to his annoyance. He hoped Sam would come by soon…the longer Marigold was alone with him…the more danger she was in from wagging tongues.  
  
She had him drink a bit more of the tea and finally he managed to find a bit of his voice.  
  
"Thank-you." It was barely a whisper but it was all he could manage. He steadied his hands, still clutching the ring in one of his fists. He had no idea why he'd suddenly needed it last night, but it had been a draw that he couldn't fight against. He had had no choice.  
  
"Don't thank me yet, Master Baggins. For you're going to have to get to your feet and lean on me. I've a nice bath waiting for you and believe you and me….you need it."  
  
Frodo started to protest, but she would have none of it. Finally…he relented and found enough strength to lean against her as she helped him out of the study and down the hallway towards his own bedroom. It was better after all, for he needed to be curled up in bed right now. As she helped him he snuck a glance at her. She was not Chloe…no…and there was an endearing quality to her that was beginning to grow on him. She was caught in a precarious situation and was making the best of it. He had to respect that. Most lady hobbits would have cracked under the pressure by now, but Marigold seemed to still be calm and in control even while half carrying, half dragging, the very weak Master of Baggins who was wearing only a blanket.  
  
She saw him put something shiny in the top drawer near his bed as she went to get the hot water kettle and returned a few moments later. It was the thing he'd been clutching in his fist all night long and she wondered curiously what it was.   
  
She poured the hot water into the bath and watched the steam rise up. Putting her hand into the water she tested it and nodded. "Its not too hot Mr. Frodo." she said briskly, "I put some salts in it so the water will foam a bit…and I'll just be in the kitchen…." With that, Marigold walked out of the bedroom to let him take care of business. She'd seen enough him already one night to not want to have to deal with him unclothed again.  
  
Frodo wasn't feeling too well. His stomach was growling with a mixture dizziness from lack of food and too much alcohol. He rubbed his eyes when she left and staggered over to the bathtub. He wished Marigold was one of his aunts…or even an uncle…or even the Gaffer at that. He didn't think he'd be able to make it out of the tub…but it looked so nice…and he felt wretched.  
  
He stumbled over to the tub and discarded the blanket, crawling into it and sighing in relief as he sank under the water and laid his head back. It felt -sooo- good. She'd put salts in too, and he often forgot to do that. He glanced over to the fireplace to see that she had started a fire in his room as well so that it would be nice and warm. Clothes were laid out on his bed, as well as a nightshirt. The bed was turned down and pillows were fluffed up and inviting. He took as deep a breath as he could and could smell breakfast in the kitchen.  
  
She wasn't Chloe…no. And if he really thought about it, Bilbo had been right all along. If he had married her things might have been different, but he would have been more ostracized from society then he was now. Maybe he should finish reading the journals…but it was too painful. It hurt too much to look back to the past. He couldn't change it anyway. He had to pull himself together if he was going to carry the Ring out of the Shire and complete Gandalf's orders.   
  
He'd loved her…at least he thought he had. But when he thought back she had not really done anything more than cuddle him and take care of him with Bilbo's help….and he'd clung to her…because she had looked like his mother. Marigold was a breath of fresh air. She was full of life and spirit and hearty and kind. It was time to let go of his memories and move on. This was his last winter in the Shire….maybe forever. He did not really have much left to come back to though it really was nice to have salts in the bath…and to smell apple-cinnamon muffins freshly baked…he could get used to it.  
  
Marigold knocked on the door, she had a fresh kettle of warm water and looked away. "Mr. Frodo? Do you need some more water…?"  
  
Thankfully…the bubbles were hiding most of Frodo's body but did not hide the blush. He half smiled at her as ventured closer and nodded. He felt weak though, despite the warm water, and he could barely lift his arms. He did not know -how- to ask for help though. Had she been Sam…he wouldn't have thought twice about it, but she was a lass.  
  
"Please…" scratched his throat. She also carried with her something for him to drink and he took the glass of juice eagerly as she poured the kettle's contents into the bath to warm it up. She looked away from him, a little blush creeping up her neck and ears.   
  
He managed to hold the glass…but his hand was still shaky and she noticed right away. Not hesitating for a minute she reached over and held his hand steady so that he could drink. He blinked and looked over at her…their eyes meeting. Frodo's mind was swimming with strange feelings that he'd never experienced in such a jumble before. She helped him hold the glass, smiling gently as he took several more sips from it, savoring the flavor…and never once looking elsewhere.  
  
"Marigold Gamgee!" the voice of Samwise Gamgee was filled with horror from the doorway. "What in the Shire are you doing?!"  
  
* * *  
  
TBC 


	14. Chapter 16

NOTE : Chloe is an original OC. Not from the books and Marigold is Sam's sister not an OC, but I designed her personality to work with this story.  
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CHAPTER 16 -- ICICLES IN THE NIGHT --   
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Well…Frodo tried to identify the feelings…he had felt them before, he just never expected to feel them again. Marigold's touch was calm, pleasant and soothing, but there was something more. He realized finally…he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to see what it would be like….but that particular realization was shattered by the voice of Samwise Gamgee.  
  
"Marigold Gamgee!" the voice of Samwise Gamgee was filled with horror from the doorway. "What in the Shire are you doing?!"  
  
Sam had managed to get into Bag End, he'd been extremely worried about Frodo when he saw how the ice had built up around the doors and didn't think Frodo would be able to get out on his own. So…he and his father had been chipping at it since daybreak.  
  
"Well, Sam." Marigold smiled a little, not jerking away from Frodo in the least. There she was…in Frodo's clothing no less…too close to the Baggins than a lass should be. But any fool could tell that Frodo was in no condition to do anything untoward. "Mr. Frodo needed a bath…he's been sick and he still is mind you.."  
  
Sam's mouth closed shut as he looked from one to the other, knowing his father was close behind. "I can see that Mari." Sam stammered. "But how did -you- come to be here….there's people about…" he lifted his hands helplessly. "They'll know…"   
  
Frodo tried to speak, but his throat caught the words back and he coughed. He tried to give Marigold a reassuring smile but he could barely breathe. He clutched her arm as the fit of coughs passed and she attempted to get him to drink something.  
  
Sam looked over his shoulder and saw the Gaffer coming. His father stopped and his mouth dropped open even further. "Marigold. I thought you were at the Cotton House." the Gaffer began.   
  
Marigold rose, and folded her arms once Frodo was settled again. "Now don't you go giving us those looks. You know darn well Mr. Frodo wouldn't harm a hair on my head. I found him sick on the road when I was comin' back from the Cotton's. He couldn't walk…he got real sick cause he weren't wearin' the proper clothing to be out at a time like last night. "What was I to do? Leave him there?"  
  
"No…no Mari. You were right to bring him home." Sam was trying hard to keep control over his muddled brain. He looked over at his father who was staring at Marigold with a troubled expression.  
  
Frodo's heart sank when he saw the look on the Gaffer's face, he knew what the older hobbit was thinking… What will people say? Sick or no…its was not right for a lass to be in the home of a bachelor for the night. He wouldn't let the Gamgee's suffer ridicule because of him though. "I will…" he wheezed a little, "I will not let anyone think badly of her, Sam…Hamfast…She saved my life…"  
  
"There now, Mr. Frodo." Marigold soothed, "Just you relax, you're in no condition to be worryin' about me. Da, Sam. It won't do a lick of good right now to have you standing there in the door like fishes out of water. Sam, I need you to prepare a good meal for Mr. Frodo, he's had a rough night. And Da…help him here, okay? I'm going to get his bed ready. Don't you worry Mr. Frodo." She clucked her tongue gently as she took control of the situation.  
  
The two Gamgees had long since been used to doing as Marigold instructed ever since their mother died. Though she was their junior in age, she was not one to let things get out of control. Frodo glanced over at her and smiled, watching her as she fixed his bed and thinking that it wasn't so bad really…she would be a good wife…Wife…what was he thinking? He couldn't…not now…not with the Ring…His mind finally began to come back to the reality of his current situation. He was leaving the Shire…Hamfast Gamgee helped him to finish his bath and he could smell Sam's cooking beginning to come from the kitchen.  
  
It was almost like having a family….  
  
Frodo sighed and closed his eyes, it would be so nice to just forget about everything….to just tell Hamfast that he would marry Sam's sister to save her reputation and simply spend his days in the Shire and tell Gandalf that he couldn't leave. Well why not…why was his life always so complicated? He didn't -want- to leave. Then he opened his eyes and looked over at Marigold again…imagining her as a slave to the dark lord…and his heart clenched. What was he going to do? He looked away and frowned.  
  
"There lad," Hamfast said gruffly. "You should be all clean now, Marigold's gone to help Sam in the kitchen. Frodo looked at Hamfast and nodded. With the help of the elder Gamgee he stepped out of the tub and into a towel.  
  
"I will marry her." Frodo said finally, rubbing his chest. He looked back at Hamfast as he was wrapped in a towel. What was odd…really…was that he actually -wanted- to. Despite everything.  
  
Hamfast shook his head, "'Taint right, Mr. Frodo. Yer a Baggins, she's a Gamgee. Will think of a way out o' this. And you don't need to, she's got a suitor already." The elder Gamgee did not realize how that particular news had hit the Baggins. "She'll marry Tom Cotton someday. Rosie's brother. Me and his father already talked about it."  
  
Already spoken for. Frodo sighed. He must have imagined it then. She really was only caring for him because he was Sam's employer. He'd thought…well…he'd thought that she actually did care about him. But he wasn't going to interfere if she was already linked with someone else. "We can tell people she works for me…and had stopped by to warm supper last night when the storm hit…" Frodo said at length….it was difficult -to- speak…not just because of the bronchitis…but because he really didn't want to think of a reason for her to be there. Because…he wanted a family…he wanted to be loved. That was all he ever really wanted.  
  
"Aye. I'll speak to the Cottons later." Hamfast nodded. "That would be best, Mr. Frodo. My pappy always used to say : there's no mixing Cabbages and Peaches….it just isn't done."  
  
Best.  
  
Frodo nodded vaguely as he weakly struggled into a nightshirt. He slipped the ring into one of his nightshirt pockets and was beginning to feel better. The bath helped…He crawled into his bed and huddled in the pillows. Hamfast took the water out of Frodo's room, with the intention of dumping it, and the Baggins was alone once again.  
  
No. He wasn't alone.  
  
The Ring was in his pocket. He'd never be truly alone. He tried to sort out his feelings, but they were jumbled. If he didn't have the ring…would things be any different? He'd still be a bachelor.  
  
Sam came in with a tray and set it down, "Here we go Mr. Frodo, some nice mushroom soup, your favorite, aye? Lets get something good into your stomach…." Sam noticed then the morose expression on his employer's face, "What is it, Mr. Frodo? Everything's going to be alright with Mari, The Gaffer will see to it."  
  
"I know Sam." Frodo nodded, He looked with interest at the tray finally, his stomach no longer felt like it was going to turn over if he had something to eat.   
  
"Aye." Sam said as he saw his master tentatively take a sip of the soup, his hands no longer shaking. "The Gaffer is taking Mari home. She said to tell you that you'd best eat up all this soup."  
  
He wouldn't get to say good bye. When they next met…it would be as if they were strangers.   
  
"Well." Frodo smiled then, "I won't disappoint her then."  
  
"You couldn't possibly disappoint anyone, Mr. Frodo." Sam grinned happy to see that his Master's spirits were picking up at the prospect of warm mushroom soup after such a dismal night.  
*Except myself. * Frodo saw Marigold as the Gaffer led her down the hall. She exchanged a look with him and smiled warmly. She wouldn't forget…and he would carry that smile with him in darker times ahead. For that was why he had to do what he had to do. To protect their way of life…The Ring had to be taken away from the Shire…  
  
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing he could do. There was no more sense in wallowing in self-pity. He was a Baggins, and this was his duty.  
  
--THE END-- 


End file.
